Investigator
by Amanda Opalis
Summary: Ludwig, Francis, and Arthur are playing a game where they have to find the murderer before they're "killed" . Several other people are already 'dead' inside the house. The trio doesn't know who's dead, or how many victims there are. AU. T for future. I was inspired a little from watching Ao oni and playing clue. edit:HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_So it's just a game, right?_

It was a question going through all three of the player's heads as they waited for the signal to enter the house. An hour before, a text was sent out to various people that a game was being played after school, called "Investigator." Naturally , curiosity took over, and within a few minutes, everyone was buzzing about it, and receiving instructions as fast as they could be typed. Ludwig,Francis and Arthur were the last ones to show up, being the ones selected to be the detectives. Arthur checked his watch again. They had been waiting for ten minutes since they got there.

There was a bit of a racket going on inside earlier, a loud thudding noise, the sound of shuddering doors. Silence followed and it put them all on edge. Of course, it was all for effect, they'd been told before.

A whistle was blown, signaling the beginning of the game. Ludwig cautiously opened the door, and peered inside.

Creaking steps, and heavy breathing were only signs that the vast house was occupied. Treading carefully, Arthur made his way into the lobby, keeping an eye out for anything was committing to memory the areas that looked the most suspicious, and kept checking in the corner of his eye for any assaliants. You couldn't be too careful when you didn't know your own enemy. The electric lights buzzed noisily and flickered randomly,making it hard for the brit to concentrate. He kept reaching into his pocket for a notebook that wasn't there, like a nervous tick.

Francis casually strolled inside, glancing around. He occasionally looked into one of the many mirrors in the lobby, fixing his hair, tossing it this way and that, using it to look around without turning his back. Most of the glass was dirty and foggy, most likely from age. He cleaned more of the mirror to afford a better view. In the corner was a figure, sitting down on the floor slumped over with several red post-it notes on it. Another person was already at their side.

* * *

Ludwig crouched down, inspecting the victim. The sticky pieces of paper were to indicate wounds. He lifted up the victim's head to make an identification. a long, curl strand stuck out from light brown hair. Lids fluttered open to reveal chocolate eyes. With a wink, they closed again,and Ludwig took notes.

_There are 6 wounds. The victim has the number 3 drawn on his hand. none of the wounds are directly fatal.  
_

Standing up again, He moved into another room, assuming he would not recieve much help from his counterparts. They were both enemies, and getting them to cooperate would prove more trouble than neccesary.

"Ludwig?" Feliciano had followed him inside, and leaned up against a chest of drawers.

"Quiet. And don't give me any hints, it's against the rules. " He waved him off.

"Oh no, I just wanted to wish you good luck, ve!"

" Danke, Now. " Ludwig shushed him again and directed his italian friend to resume his previous position.  
He checked his phone, reading over the rules. He expected there to be more than just five. The information just seemed too limited ..There was no pictures of the floorplans,making navigation harder. The worst thing he could do was get lost.

* * *

Ok so that's the end of this chapter, short, but more to come. Review if you like, and feel free to suggest a victim :0


	2. Chapter 2

A ear shattering scream rattled the windows of the house, a high pitched, fearful noise that made Francis slip over the edge of the balcony. He instinctively gripped the ledge, holding on tightly as his knuckles turned white.

Before this incident, the investigation had not turned up much more than one body and some rats in the closet. There was no safety promised, and the non-existent railing along the staircases did not say differently. The atmosphere however, was constantly in question. It would switch, from quiet, soft thudding footfalls, to a scratching noise in the walls; or some eerie whistling. There was no real pattern to it, considering the long moments of agonizing silence. A while ago, no noise would have been welcomed when they first entered. Now it was some deadly version of musical chairs. If the players didn't pay attention while the music was playing.. then they could be caught .

Try as he might, Francis couldn't seem to lift himself up on the balcony. He hung there, swinging in the empty air. He rose, his chest barely above the ledge. His arms were beginning to shake a little as he gripped the concrete. Francis kicked his legs up for more momentum.

"Come on.. Shouldn't be this hard. "Francis blew some hair out of his eyes. He thought about calling for help, but extra weight might cause some problems. He could hear the porch's supports groaning underneath his own weight, threatening to break unless there was relief. Frustrated, the Frenchman slid back down, sighing. Gym class was filtering back to his memory, specifically the pull-up bars. He wasn't exactly a champion at them, being more attracted to watching the others perform than actually doing it himself.

"One more try.. hup!" with one great heave, he flopped onto the porch, and crawled back into the safety of the house.

The air was suffocating in the upper room as he re-entered. The stale air was hard to get used to, and the smell was more than he could bear. Francis propped up more windows to make up for the lack of ventilation. There was dust everywhere,and his nose reacted accordingly, letting out several healthy sneezes.  
Treading lightly, he made his way into the Billards room. Some pool sticks lay broken on the floor. Whether from age or an aggressive player, he couldn't tell.

Tiny red droplets were spattered against the wall and just below that, was the second victim.

Matthew Williams lay there, his eyes stared afar off, as if he were thinking. Francis ' stomach clenched and turned, barely able to swallow as he took in the scene.

* * *

Arthur shifted uneasily as he lay flat against the floor. There was a stiff pain in his back and shoulders, and the metal nails scratching against him made it even more uncomfortable. He pulled himself up, resting his hands on his knees for a moment. He'd fallen backwards, not remembering to duck his head as he made his exit. The room he was going to enter had a somewhat smaller opening. Crouching down,Arthur made his way in. unlike the other rooms in the house, it wasn't hot and dry. it was damp, dirty, and terribly cold.  
There was something eerily familiar about it. He shivered, dismissing the Deja-vu, and lit up a match, hoping to clear up the stench. Arthur yelped in surprise when a rat ran over his shoe and darted into a nearby hole. He was starting to hate how pests found their way to him so easily.


	3. Chapter 3

"L-Ludwig! who was that?! "Feliciano was terrified from the screech he heard and stood close to his German counterpart, clutching his arm as he shivered.

"Why are you still following me? I told you, go back where you were!" He couldn't push him away very easily, his shorter friend having quite a grip. Feliciano had been following him for a while, as was his habit with his best friend. one could say they were inseparable, but lacking one. Kiku Honda was a friend of Ludwig's, and was the quietest of the three. Together they made a great team. It was unfortunate then,when Kiku had " other things I'd like to do, though I am very sorry for not joining you Today." It was simple, polite, and perhaps, the way he wanted to be viewed by his companions. But as Ludwig entered the main bedroom with the Italian in tow, it was Kiku, who was late. his head rested against the bedpost lazily, like a rag doll, eyes closed, . Ludwig took a moment to breathe, turning slowly to see Feliciano retreating back to his spot. It was probably for the best. He pulled out the notebook.

_stiff, and warm. victim must be dead around, 3 to 8 hours if I'm calculating correctly. the number 6 on his forearm. I don't like the look of this._

**Why did** **I write that? **He thought to himself, and paused to look at his added commentary. It was starting to sound like his old journal. he hovered the eraser over it, but shut it quickly, shaking his head and pocketing it. there was no time to muse about it. The rules were clear, staying in a room for too long was just too dangerous. As time passed, it was less like a game. And if nothing else, he was determined to give the victims a proper funeral. It was the least he could do for Kiku.

* * *

"Hello? someone about..? "

Arthur was still crawling around, trying to make as little noise as possible. the tight space was making him frantic, and every rattling sound made him jump. he occasionally stretched out his legs, trying to keep the blood flowing. The worst thing he could do was get cramps, and get stuck. he rapped on the side of the wall, checking how thick it was. mostly he got low thuds, until he reached the end, which responded with a light, higher pitched sound. It even gave a little, with some pressure. mustering his strength, he pulled his fist back, and slammed it into the wooden, making it pop out, like a puzzle piece. It was a sun room, a shelf at the opposite wall with some ruined books, waterlogged, and torn in some places. There wasn't enough room to go out feet first, so he made the best of it, reaching out with his hands, finding purchase with a small cushioned chair that was set against the wall. he inched his way out, the chair creaking noisily. or, he thought it was the old wood, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a large rat, trying to push past him, also into the room below.

"Bloody hell-! " he was cut off by the floor rushing up to meet him, landing with a grunt.


End file.
